


Bruises

by atlus



Category: GOT7
Genre: Accidents, Bruises, Caring, Eventual Fluff, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlus/pseuds/atlus
Summary: Mark thinks he's fine, and somehow, that's exactly why Jackson is so hurt.





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the famous flip in the 'Teenager' performance. I've been watching it a lot recently and I just had to write something markson about it. I hope you all enjoy something quick and fluffy! -atlus

It was late when Jackson and Mark arrived back at their hotel along with the rest of their bandmates. Everyone piled onto the elevator, each man a yawning mess. Yugyeom’s head was against the wall as if he was already asleep, while BamBam poked at him a bit. Jaebum and Youngjae were exchanging giggles, obviously a bit intoxicated. Jinyoung was standing in the corner, arms crossed and head drooped.

In the crowded elevator, everyone seemed to be in their own little word. This included Jackson and Mark; Mark was on Jackson’s back, arms wrapped securely around his neck and head rested on his shoulder. Jackson had offered to carry his significant other back to the room since he was so exhausted from the concert. When the doors slid open, goodnights were exchanged and each group headed to their designated room.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jackson asked as he headed toward the room, “Swear to me you’re not hurt?”

Mark nodded, though he didn’t raise his head. “I swear,” he replied with a chuckle, “I’m just tired.” His muffled voice tickled Jackson’s neck.

When the two arrived at the door, Jackson leaned forward so Mark could reach to unlock it. Once Jackson stepped in, he carefully slipped the man off of his back and onto the bed. “Are you going to take a bath with me?” Mark asked. His boyfriend shot him a look of confusion; it _was_ nearly one in the morning. “Please?” He pleaded, widening his doe eyes, “I’m sore and I want to relax with you.”

Of course, Jackson couldn’t say no to that face. He removed his cap and brushed the dark hair out of his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he replied, “but you can start it, at least.” The older boy grinned at his own success. He hopped off the bed and headed to the bathroom, but not before giving Jackson a peck on the cheek.

The hotel bathroom was pristine; from floor to ceiling, everything was white. The tile was cold on Mark’s bare feet, making him more inclined to crank up the heat in the tub. He turned the hot water on all the way and let it run on his hands for a few seconds before plugging the drain. Sitting on the edge of the tub was a small container of bubble bath. He dumped nearly half of it into the slowly rising water.

“How’s it going in there?” Jackson called from the bedroom.

Mark smiled. “Good, though I’m not sure any bath could relieve your uptight demeanor right now.” His boyfriend snorted loud enough for him to hear, even through the closed door. He laughed to himself and stirred the already churning water. The warmth soothed his skin and calmed his mind for the moment. That was all it took for him to begin undressing.

When Mark began lifting his shirt, however, he noticed something suspect in the mirror. Looking closer, he realized there was a large bruise forming on his ribs. Carefully, he ran his fingers over the bruise to see if it was really as bad as it looked; the loud hissing noise it brought forth proved a point.

“Mark?”

Jackson’s voice startled him, causing him to immediately pull down his shirt. “Y-yeah?” He stammered.

“Are you okay in there? Is the bath ready?”

 _Shit._ The bath couldn’t happen now. Jackson could _not_ see the bruise. If he did, there was no way he could handle it. What was Mark supposed to say? “I’m fine, but I don’t really feel like taking a bath anymore. I just got really tired and-”

He was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. “What are you talking about?” Jackson asked, turning to the tub, “It’ll help with your soreness. Besides, you know you can fall asleep on me. You always do.” A smile crept over his lips.

“It’s not a big deal,” Mark tried to explain, “I know you didn’t want to take a bath anyway, it’s too late.”

Jackson wagged his finger and kissed the tip of Mark’s nose. “Nonsense, now come here.” He pulled his boyfriend closer by the hem of his shirt and proceeded to lift it over his head. When he reached out to touch Mark’s sides, however, his boyfriend aggressively winced. “Oh gosh, did I hurt you?” Jackson asked worriedly, beginning to examine the man in front of him. Before Mark could stop him, he managed to find the bruise. The room fell silent.

“...This is from earlier, isn’t it?”

Mark averted his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“What else would it be from?” Jackson cried, turning away. He locked both hands in his hair and tugged out of aggravation. “Jesus, Mark, I kept asking if you were hurt and then I see this…” He couldn’t come up with the words.

The older man reached out to place a comforting hand on Jackson’s shoulder, but he was having none of it. The hand was immediately shaken off as Jackson pulled away. “Please, baby,” Mark begged, “there wasn’t any way to avoid this. I’m not upset, so why are you?” His arms snaked around his boyfriend’s waist and he rested his forehead against his back.

Jackson sighed. “I’m upset because I didn’t want you to do that stupid stunt in the first place. I was terrified you would be hurt, and look at you now! I’m the one who hurt you.” He took one of Mark’s hands and rubbed it absentmindedly with his thumb.

“Isn’t it better that you pushed me too hard?” Mark argued, “If you didn’t push me enough, I could’ve missed the landing.” He gave Jackson’s waist a squeeze to offer him comfort, but the man’s mind was somewhere else…

_The stage was set. The music played and the crowd cheered. Each man belted out ‘Teenager’ with such passion, there wasn’t a single girl in the audience who wasn’t swooning over them all. Though all of the members were adored, fans seemed to particularly enjoy Jackson’s stone cold performance expression. He wore the same one that night, only his eyes weren’t on the audience; they followed Mark everywhere._

_Jackson wasn’t normally the type of person who watched his boyfriend out of paranoia. However, he was extremely worried. They had been practicing Mark’s stunt for weeks and it never seemed to go exactly right. Sometimes the flip would land perfect, but Jackson wouldn’t push him far enough. Other times, the push would be fine, but the flip would be deathly close to ending in Mark’s head smacking the floor._

_It was all Jackson could think of. If he hurt Mark, he could never forgive himself. The performance continued on, coming closer and closer to the special stage. Suddenly, everyone was kneeling and Mark was in the air. Jackson’s arm launched outward, his eyes burning into his boyfriend’s flying form. The landing was beautiful, because of course it was._

_When Mark pushed himself off the ground, his eyes met Jackson’s for a split second before the concert came back to life._

“I guess so,” Jackson muttered, though it didn’t sound sincere.

Mark turned his boyfriend around, forcing him to make eye contact. It brought on a burning sensation, just as it had earlier that night. “If it bothers you so much, take care of me.” The older boy tugged on the younger’s arm and pointed at the bath, which was now on the verge of overflowing. “Clean me up, dress my wounds… you know, the works.”

The suggestion made Jackson grin involuntarily. He continued undressing Mark, his fingertips grazing the skin ever-so-slightly. Mark returned the favor, unbuttoning Jackson’s shirt along with his pants. The two embraced for a moment, bare skin on fire from the touch, then sank into the warm eater of the tub. Jackson got in first; Mark followed suit, sliding perfectly between his legs.

“I like taking care of you,” Jackson whispered into Mark’s ear before running his wet hands through the man’s hair, “but just know I would do it even if I hadn’t beaten you up.”

Mark chuckled and playfully slapped Jackson’s arm. “Hush and wash my hair, slave.”

“I would _not_ be saying that to me, baby, and you know it.”


End file.
